Nothing
by Gold Ninetails
Summary: Just a very short write from Wolf's point of view, eight years after StarFox64. Quite short. Yeah. It's done, but I might write a bit more...
1. Nightmares

Disclaimer: This will be dumb. In fact, at this moment, I have no idea what this story is going to be about. I think this won't even add up to five hundred words, but what the hey, take a shot at it, huh? Obviously, consideration goes out to Nintendo for owning and keeping Star Fox away from us for, what, a year now? This sucks. I can't wait until Star Fox Armada comes out.

  
  
  


_Take a shot. Go ahead. It won't matter. What you do will be insignificant. Absolutely irrelevant. Completely idiotic. Nothing you do can affect the universe in whole. Nothing you do can change the past. Nothing you can do will be written down in history, so why even bother? You are obsolete. You are finished. You are NOTHING! Oh, going to talk back, now are, you? That's even more pointless. Nothing. A speck of dust on a bookshelf. A beetle to be squashed by a bigger organism. That is what you are. You cannot... You won't... You wouldn't... You can't beat him. Ever._

  


Wolf suddenly sat up in his bed, gasping for breath.

  


"Jesus! What a nightmare..." Wolf swallowed hard and threw the covers off himself. He staggered around his apartment, tyring to find the bathroom in the pitch darkness. His hand touched the wall, and he followed it, feeling for the switch. His shin bumped into something twice before he found it and flicked it on. Light flooded the room and he was finally able to see the entrance to the bathroom.

  


His apartment was about as worthless as he was. It was just another run-down place in a run-down planet. Somehow, it felt like Zoness was as bad as it was before the Cornerians cleaned it up. The streets still reeked of filth and garbage, and the stench somehow snaked its way into every nook and cranny, making every citizen sick. Most never stayed long. Wolf was one of the others. He stayed because none of the poor urchins recognized the evil he was. Anywhere else, he'd be caught and shot within an hour of arrival.

  


Wolf put his hands on the edge of the sink and leaned on them, inspecting himself in the mirror while his mind slowly woke up. His ragged grey fur was no different. His angry, dark eye were just the same as yesterday. His black patch on his other one was just as dirty as before. He slowly peeled it back to remind himself of what it looked like under there. He groaned, and slapped the patch back almost immediately. He thought back._ Yes, McCloud had done that, nearly twelve years ago_, he thought, remembering his first assassination attempt. Fox had completely foiled it. In the process, he had scorched Wolf's right eye with a laser shot, and he had nearly got his brain, if it weren't for Wolf's agility.

  


"Give me two minutes with that guy," Wolf growled, gripping the sink with his hands, "On the ground, without his precious Arwing, and I bet I can snap him like a twig." He thought about Fox squirming in his grasp for a few seconds, then sighed, releasing his death grip on the sink. "What's the use? It'll never happen."

  


Wolf turned on the squeaky faucet and watched as the yellowish water poured from it. He retched, though it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. He had been living in that disgusting apartment for three months, though he still hadn't got used to it. He splashed some water on his face and wiped it off with a towel that hadn't been washed for weeks. Wolf grumbled miserably as he turned off the tap and slunk back into his bedroom.

  


Turning off the lights again, he climbed into his blankets. He felt them. There was a beetle on one of the edges. He brushed it off without a care and closed his eyes.

  


_Never will you get to kill Fox. He'll have all the luck. He'll be the one who's sleeping in the king-sized mattress. He'll be the one with the girls. He'll be the one with all the pride and money. He'll be the respected one. He'll be the glorified one. He'll always be better than you. Absolutely nothing you say or do can change that. Not now, not ever. Perhaps, you will die just like this, in a worn-out, moth-eaten piece of springy crap, drinking water filled with parasites, eating out of a garbage can. But Fox will be the one who will die fabulously wealthy, with dignity and honour, with a beautiful vixen at his side who had been with him all his life, with children who will mourn him and tell his tale for centuries. Worthless... Dust... Pathetic... Weak..._

  


_ Nothing._

  
  


--

  


A/N: That turned out to be more pointless than I thought, though it gives a bit of insight, now doesn't it?


	2. Dump Guy

Intro: Oookay, this one is going to be bad. I can feel it. As plotless and pointless as the first chapter. Okay, okay, okay...

  
  
  


_Absolutely nothing... _

  


_ Look at you, you worthless piece of crap. You don't deserve to live in such great a solar system. You don't even have a decent job. You don't even have enough money to buy a chunk of bread for breakfast. How pitiful and sad... If you ask me, you should throw yourself into the sea and die. You had two chances to die already. Fox gave them to you. You deserve to die. You should've taken his generous and honourable offer while you had the chance..._

  


"SHUT UP!" Wolf screamed, jolting up in his bed. Moaning his displeasure at his horrid nightmares, he tried to prop his body up with a paw, but somehow, when he leaned on his left one, it sunk right into the mattress. Growling, Wolf pulled at it. A sharp, dislodged spring inside the mattress caught on his hide and ripped a long gash on his arm as he pulled it out. Wolf swore badly and rolled out of bed.

  


Bright sunlight streamed through the cracked and dirt-and-oil-filmed glass of his window. It lit up the apartment, everything from its uneven, stained carpeting to Wolf's rotting wood cabinet near his bed. That was about it. It didn't even have a kitchen sink, let alone a refrigerator or a shower. All it had was one bathroom sink, some cracked, grey drywall, a mirror, a dirty toilet, and what Wolf owned, which was not much. Not much at all. At least it was sunny that day. Usually it was as dark, gloomy, and evil as Wolf's temper, with dark thunder clouds, hail, floods, and acid rain. Wolf absolutely despised the place, but what choice did he have?

  


He staggered into the bathroom, holding his bleeding arm. He didn't dare rinse the wound with the water; who knows what unsanitary, microscopic creatures lived in there? Wolf let his arm drip while he ripped off a piece of toilet paper (the only thing that was remotely white and clean in his apartment, ironically) and tried to tie it to his arm. It didn't work as well as he had hoped, but it stopped the bleeding. A bit.

  


With a puffy, swollen eye, Wolf got himself dressed for work. His work clothes were probably the only other set of clothing he had, and they were smelly and blue, although they were looked more green from the stains. They reeked of rancid filth, rotting carcasses, the spit and sweat of Wolf himself, and God knows what else. At least the clothes were free and the job paid. A bit.

  


Wolf had to walk to work every day, and it was usually a cold and wet kind of task, but the weather was kind on Zoness for a day, and Wolf almost enjoyed his walk. Almost. There were too many gangsters giving him the evil eye, too many cars rolling into the mud and splashing him, and too many smokers puffing smoke into his eyes. Wether they did it on purpose or not, Wolf couldn't tell.

  


The wrecked and wretched streets were fourteen times as bad as a few downtown metropolises in Corneria that Wolf had been to, and that was saying something. Imagine a place with rickety apartments without doors to close out burglars, filthy brats who had snot running down their faces, and gutters filled with trash and droppings of every kind of living creature. Now imagine that place fourteen times worse.

  


It wasn't a long walk to the dump, but it wasn't quick. Usually, Wolf got hold up by a few mobsters wanting some petty dimes. Wolf didn't even have a penny. Of course, they never believed him when he said that, so they beat him up anyway. Wolf could've killed them if they came in twos, or even threes at a time, but that lead gangster always had a least a dozen cronies with him every day. So every day, Wolf got beaten by thirteen bullies, and every day, they failed the recognize him, even though they were the same guys who had beaten Wolf up every living day for the past six months. They weren't very bright.

  


Nose bloodied and eye black, Wolf walked the rest of the way to the dump, where he worked. He was the guy who tore open bags of trash and then sorted them, into recyclable and non-recyclable. It was the only job he could get, and he was the only guy on the block smart enough to know that a glass bottle could be recycled. He got five cents for every bottle he threw into the bin, but even though he worked there ten hours a day, it never added up to much. Scowling at the smell, like he did every day, Wolf waltzed into the metal-linked gate to greet his boss, a weasel. Figures. Nole was behind a booth, as usual, conducting people who had lost their stuff by accident and wanted it back; that was Nole's job. His job description was to tell those urchins to get their butts out of city property before he got out the shotgun. The fat, old, mean weasel did the job just fine.

  


"Hem," Nole coughed, spitting a ball of mucus on the ground before facing Wolf, "Hey, kid. You know what to do." He sniffed. "Hey, you smell funny today, kid." Wolf almost laughed at the irony. Almost.

  


Without a word to Nole, Wolf got to work. Rip, rummage, sort, throw. Rip, rummage, sort, throw. Repeat. Rip, rummage, sort, throw...

  


It went on for ten hours. After his shift, and after his bin was heaping full, Wolf carried it to Nole, who counted the bottles and gave him the money.

  


"Hem," Nole coughed, spitting a ball of mucus on the ground before facing Wolf, yet again, "Okay..." And he counted. Nole was smart. All weasels were. You know, sly, quick-witted tricksters. But Nole couldn't count very well. Wolf had to help him on 4, 13, 23, 32 to 37, and a lot more numbers. After he was done (it took him ten minutes to count three hundred bottles), he handed over Wolf's pay. Fifteen bucks. Just enough to buy him a package of ham for supper and some cereal for a few breakfasts. A bit happier, Wolf pocketed the change and walked quickly toward the store to buy some food.

  


It was nighttime, and Wolf couldn't see very well, with the loss of depth with one eye and blurry focus with the other (strangely enough, Wolf needed glasses), so it was natural for him to bump into a cat at night. She meowed in apology and kept going the other way. Wolf shook his head. Pity. That cat looked smart enough and pretty enough to get a job as a secretary or a clerk at a high office in Corneria. Too bad.

  


When Wolf got to the store, he fished around in his pockets for the money. There wasn't any. Surprised, he checked every pocket he had, and again for holes. There wasn't any. Now enraged, he realized what had happened. That cat had pickpocketed him! Not a rare occurrence; it was the fourth time it happened to Wolf, but he was mad anyway. 

  


Sulking, he went back to his apartment on the third floor and flopped down into bed without changing his clothes and without anything to eat. He noticed something on his shirt as the moonlight poured into his room. It was a hair. Probably from the cat. A pink hair. Wolf threw it off him and went to sleep.

  


_Indecent... Dishonourable pig... You are nothing... You are worse than the pickpocket... You deserved to die... You deserved to be killed... You deserved you have your body thrown about in that cockpit when Fox shot you down... You did not deserve a second chance... You are an evil... You are moronic... You need to be hanged for the horrible things you did... You are nothing..._

  


_ Nothing..._


	3. Moonlit Chase

Intro: Well, since so many reviewers insist that my story isn't pointless, I'll try to make it less so.

  
  
  


Wolf groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. He had been trying to stay awake the since he woke up at midnight (from his dreams), partly because he was sick and tired of his stupid mattress, and party because he didn't want to hear any more of his nightmares. He sat on his bed, trying to think up ways of keeping awake. He didn't have any coffee, he didn't have any cold water to splash on his face (his tap water was lukewarm, on top of dirty, smelly, and parasite-ridden), so he considered going outside for a walk. His stomach was growling, and briefly Wolf considered robbing the store. But the neighbourhood was close; everybody knew everybody, so Wolf couldn't risk being caught and sent to prison. Maybe the police knew him better than his neighbours. Most likely. Wolf also liked to cling onto whatever honour he had left. It was one of his only possessions. Honour. Skill. A set of tattered, crap clothes.

  


The moment he opened the cracked door out of the apartment building, a wave of cold wind slapped him in the face, clearing his head instantly. Wolf thought of tracking down the pickpocket, but he was too hungry and tired to do so. Maybe she'd bump into him again. _And this time,_ Wolf thought angrily, _I can strangle her and take my money back._ It was a refreshing thought. It brought back memories of Wolf's piloting days. Wolf thought about them as he walked. All the rush of being in a jet going at Mach 4. All the excitement when you shoot down an annoying Cornerian craft. All the adrenalin that rushes into your brain when you dive-bomb a military base. It was all good fun, but it was past now. Wolf had to live in the harsh realities of a life of a bum. It wasn't so bad. At least Wolf had four walls to close him in. Wolf passed a street dog sitting miserably in a cardboard box in the middle of an alley as he walked. He was wearing clothes more horrid and dirty than Wolf's. It made him feel better, almost sadistic. But the dog reminded Wolf so much about himself that he didn't throw garbage in the dog's face. He would've usually done such evil. But not that night.

  


Wolf glanced up at the stars. He saw Katina, a close, brownish ball near one of Zoness' moons. Wolf scowled at it, remembering that Captain that nearly shot him down while he was at a mission there. What was that wretch's name? Grey, that was it. William Grey. Wolf turned his head a bit to the left and saw Titania. Not a bad sight to behold in the dark skies, but not the best place to live, with magnetic storms and landmines left by Wolf himself. Then he saw Venom, that looming shadow that covered more than a fifth of the stars. Wolf sighed. That looming, evil shadow was once his home. A good home. The best place he had lived in his life.

  


As Wolf was looking up, he didn't notice a figure walking the opposite way on the same sidewalk. The figure didn't see Wolf either. Her head was fixed to the ground. Not a surprise that the smashed into each other. Wolf was throw onto the pavement and she was bumped against the wall.

  


"Hey, watch where you're going!" Wolf snarled. Then he saw her face. Pink. Catlike. Wolf's good eye widened, "YOU!" The cat took off like lightening, and Wolf quickly jumped up to give chase. She was fast, like a cat should be, but Wolf was faster. Natural instinct took over the lupine, and he leaned forward and ran faster and faster. The cat soon got exhausted and madly scanned the street for a way out. She ducked into a dark alley, and Wolf followed.

  


The cat didn't get very far. A linked metal fence blocked her flight. Frightened, she looked up. Fortunately for her, there was a ladder near the fence leading up to the roof of a brick building. She dashed for it. Wolf saw her climbing up and made like a monkey. Gasping in weariness, the cat tried to jump over the fence from the ladder. It would've worked, too; she was high enough up on the ladder, but Wolf had grabbed her leg and pulled. Hard. The cat fell with a shriek and landed with a sickening thud and crack on the cement ground of the alley. The force of Wolf's throw had broken her arm.

  


He jumped neatly down from the ladder and kneeled beside her. Wolf dug his paw into her pants' pockets and found a twenty-dollar bill. He stuck it into his own pocket. Smirking, he said to the cat, "That's what you get for messing with me."

  


"Hmm," the cat sat up, sighing. Wolf was surprised when she didn't run. Looking up to Wolf, she smiled, "Hey, you're pretty fast and strong, tiger. Where're you from?" Wolf's jaw dropped for the second time in one day.

  


"What the heck... Okay, lady, you've got some nerve. Get! Before I break one of your legs!" Wolf spat.

  


"Whatever, hon," the cat stood up, "See you later." The cat walked away, holding her broken arm.

  


Wolf shook his head, "That woman needs therapy."

  


It wasn't until Wolf got home that he realized that he was still hungry; the chase made him forget that he hadn't eaten for two days. Mumbling, Wolf decided to sleep anyway to ease away the rest of the night, even if it meant for some more nightmares...

  


_Well, well, the poor chap got his money back. So what? Twenty dollars can't change how you are right now! You are still a worthless piece of fur that's less valuable than a bit of green string! Absolutely despicable... Filthy... Stench-ridden... Street urchin... A bit of unwanted carbon... Downtrodden... Stupid... Miserable piece of trash... Nothing..._

  


_ Nothing..._


	4. Birthday

Intro: Merf. I've noticed that there are nearly no Katt and Wolf romance stories here. Odd isn't it?

  
  


_You really want to trust her? She'll probably steal everything you have. Oh, wait, I'm sorry, you don't have anything. I guess I forgot that you were an insignificant piece of nothing. Too bad._

  


Wolf woke up that morning five days after the incident with that pink cat, strangely with a good mood. The voices in his head were starting to become less of a problem, as they were talking less. Wolf himself felt better than he had ever been. It was partly because he quit his lowly job at the dump, and was living a semi-good life for the first time in a long time. It was because that cat, oddly enough named Katt, was dropping by and spending time with him. Of course, Wolf thought that she was still trying to pickpocket him at first, but when the fifteen dollars plus the extra five he nicked back from her kept their place in his back pocket, he started to trust her.

  


Wolf remembered their conversation a few days ago about why Katt was helping him. Katt had dragged him out shopping for clothes, and Wolf was in the dressing room trying out a new pair of jeans when the enigma popped into his head again.

  


"Katt?" He had called through the dressing room door.

  


"What's the matter, hon?" She called back, "Too big?" Wolf looked down at the pants Katt was going to buy him. They fit perfectly.

  


"No, it's not that. I just don't understand why you are buying me all this stuff and treating me like your friend?" You see, Wolf never really had a friend. The only ones that came close were Leon, his former wingman, and Fox. Well, of course, that was before Wolf turned to Andross and Fox shot him in the eye.

  


"Hon, just suck it up," Katt laughed. Her laughter was music to Wolf's ears. She threw a T-shirt over the door to Wolf as she continued, "You just remind me so much of another person I knew. He was just as stubborn and mean as you, and I never got a chance to tell him how much I cared. I don't think he knew. Now that I've met you, it's like I've got a second chance to make someone better. It's because I care, Wolf." Wolf got angry at her words; he didn't know why.

  


"Listen," he snarled, "I don't need your charity. I don't want it! You're wrong. I don't need to be changed. This is how I am." He kicked down the door, throwing the pair of pants and the shirt in Katt's face. He started to walk out of the store when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

  


"Wolf, you need it. You want it. You're just too egotistical to admit it," Katt pushed the clothes in Wolf's hands. She smiled and cooed at him, "Besides, I need a big, strong protector around. There are lots of people out there who are just waiting to catch me in a dark alley." Wolf blushed madly.

  


Wolf didn't mention it again. He did suck it up, and by the fifth day, he was starting to enjoy Katt's company. He enjoyed it a lot. He started to laugh with her, he started to share his stories with her, but nothing about his relations to Andross, of course. He told her childhood stories about his two best friends. A gray dog and an orange fox. They played every day after school. They joked and played pranks on each other. But that was the past. One is a captain in the Katina Air Force, the other a wandering mercenary. Katt always listened intently, smiling at the funny parts, comforting Wolf in the sad ones. She was a perfect audience. Wolf learned to like her. He learned to like her a lot.

  


She helped him put up new wallpaper for his apartment, and she bought him a filter for his icky tap water. Katt even took him out one day and made him get home lugging a brand new waterbed. Wolf became very used to Katt. He even forgot about their pickpocketing incident.

  


The fifth day. It was special to Wolf, not because of Katt. Not because of anything related to Zoness. It was his birthday, but he kept quiet during their shopping trip, because he knew that Katt would just make a huge fuss out of it and buy him more stuff. But Katt seemed to know he was hiding something. It really annoyed Wolf that she seemed to be able to read his mind. He was halfway done his bowl of yogurt at the food court with her when she said it.

  


"What do you want for your birthday?" She asked. Wolf choked.

  


"How did you know?" He asked, wiping his face with a napkin and coughing at the same time.

  


"Just a guess," she smiled. At that moment, Wolf knew he was in love.

  
  
  


(A/N: I'm guessing it's done, 'cause I don't plan on making any more chapters. Pbfft. Pointless...)


	5. Who Needs Falco? :Rated R

Intro: In case anyone missed it, this chapter is rated R for some icky stuff involving the ill effects of drinking and being near a bed while at it. If you're offended by sex, then shoo. It's a big jump from... What was the previous rating? Anyway, this chapter is humor, not angst, so there. This chapter is backed by popular demand (I think), and it shouldn't even be here. So this is just a bonus, and shouldn't affect any other fics I or anyone else writes.

  
  


_Lucky bastard. Maybe not so much of a nothing after all..._

  


Wolf and Katt had a wild two-person party at her place for Wolf's birthday celebration. Wolf insisted that Katt didn't buy him anything, so Katt took out a bottle of champagne and put on some music. Loud music. Wolf, at first, thought to just drink a bit, but a long time away from alcohol increases the lust for it, and Wolf ended up draining half the bottle. Katt drained the other half. After a bit of homemade cake (courtesy of Katt), they fell on the bed, laughing from one of Wolf's dirty jokes, both drunker than most drunks. Wolf didn't know exactly how long after the bed-falling Katt did it, but he remembered it was after two more jokes. Katt suddenly pulled him really close and frenched him.

  


If Wolf were a bit more sober, he would've pushed her away, but he wasn't 'a bit more sober', and he kissed back. Saliva mixing with the champagne, the champagne mixing with the icing from the cake stuck to the roofs of their mouths, and whatnot. It wasn't long before they were both moaning passionately, pressing their bodies harder and harder on themselves, Wolf groping for something (he didn't know what) and Katt awkwardly reaching for the stereo to turn it off. Katt succeeded in turning it off, but Wolf didn't seem to find what he was looking for.

  


After along time of the oral play, Katt remembered how intercourse went and pulled off her shirt. Wolf mimicked her (probably without realizing it). A few more minutes of moaning and kissing ensued, now with the torsos exposed. Wolf worked his mouth down on Katt's neck and licked it hotly, making her moan even louder. And if they were a bit more sober, they would've been a bit quieter as not to disturb Katt's next-apartment neighbors, but they weren't 'a bit more sober', so they just kept at it. Wolf, now a bit lower and on top of Katt, unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off along with her undergarments. Katt didn't seem to notice. Wolf then fumbled stupidly at his own belt and buttons, but got them off. Eventually. While Katt was kissing his neck. But he didn't seem to realize that, either.

  


Wolf had to aim a few times before he actually entered Katt. What made it harder was that Katt's arm brushed up on her bedside cabinet and knocked off the lamp so Wolf had to 'aim' in complete darkness. He got it in her though. Eventually. Rocking his hips in sync to hers, Wolf didn't think he felt more comfortable or pleasured in his entire life. Well, if he wasn't almost deafened by Katt's 'Harder!' screams. But he obeyed anyway, trying to thrust harder and harder until Katt shut up. But she didn't. Katt, instead, screamed even louder, mewing like a lynx in heat. Which she almost was. But her words became 'YES!' instead of 'Harder!'.

  


With Katt scratching his back and licking him wetly every now and then, Wolf started to get that sensation from his scrotum. He cried out as he shot his semen deep into Katt. She cried out a lot louder as she orgasmed, her water flowing over Wolf's phallus and splattering over his stomach. Wolf collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Katt smiled sweetly at him, giving him a gentle lick on the muzzle with her rough tongue as she fell asleep with him.

  


Wolf woke up the next day with the sun over his body realizing that he didn't have nightmares that night. But it took him a while to recollect the memories of Katt and him together. He only remembered when he found out that the furry arm over his chest wasn't his.

  


"Katt?" He whispered, rubbing her shoulders gently to rouse her. Katt was lying on her stomach, her legs open.

  


"Hmm, don't say a thing, hon. I've got a massive hangover," she kissed him on the cheek without opening her eyes. Wolf sighed and ran his hand over her body, stopping at her buttocks. She murmured her approval at his movements, but didn't move herself. Wolf ran a finger over her slit, inserting it at the right area, feeling that she was still wet and sticky from her own orgasmic juices, and his. Wolf smirked devilishly and rolled over on top of her, propping himself up by his knees and elbows, careful not to disturb her. He then positioned his thick member near her, and thrust hard. She squealed in delight. Wolf moved in and out very quickly, making her moan and grunt just like the other night. He moved her head and kissed her forcefully, making a little wrestling match with her tongue. He won. Wolf snaked his hands over her and grabbed her breasts, feeling them as he continued to make love to her from behind. Katt nuzzled him softly, making him slow down a bit. She whispered, "Don't go too fast, hon. You'll make my headache worse." Wolf nibbled gently on her ear in response. 'Whatever you say'.

  


Katt came first that time, her nectar spilling out on Wolf again. He thrust into her harder, but not as fast. Her vaginal corridor was very slick, and it made Wolf very pleased. He shot into her four times, and went into a morning nap in top of her, his penis still inside. Katt didn't seem to mind. She was nearly asleep, too.

  


"I love you, too, Wolf," she sighed lovingly as she dozed off.

  


Neither of them realized that their shoes were still on, and Katt didn't notice that Wolf's eye patch was tickling her neck. It didn't matter much. They were too happy.

  
  


(A/N: I feel dirty.)


End file.
